


Rising Action

by CandleCucumbers



Category: IDubbbzTV - Fandom, The Cancer Crew, The Filthy Frank Show (Web Series)
Genre: Anal Sex, Begging, Bottom Joji, Cancer crew- Freeform, Detachment, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Lack of Communication, Light Angst, Light BDSM, M/M, More tags coming soon as they become relevant, PWP, Sadism, Smut, Spanking, Top Ian, christ my word count, gee ok here we go, gently though, its actually light this time I swear, some good ol', sorry - Freeform, they are just mentioned, what did this become
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 17:34:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9248492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandleCucumbers/pseuds/CandleCucumbers
Summary: “I don’t mean to shut you out, I don’t mean to run. I justdo. I’ve always been that way, sometimes for a few days I just…check out. It has nothing to do with you.”George and Ian face some problems in their relationship when George periodically shuts Ian, and the rest of the world, out. Which intensely frustrates Ian because of George's refusal to talk about it. /It sounds like there's a lot of plot in this but there really isn't, not yet anyway. For now it's mostly kinky makeup sex. Expect future additions to the story





	

**Author's Note:**

> Venting writing is the best, but venting writing isn't always good writing so it took a long while to get this together and just recently realized that for this story to completely satisfy me, I'll have to write two extra chapters which incidentally are supposed to come _before_ this chapter. Suffice to say, this fic is a fucking mess, sorry in advance.
> 
> Hope you enjoy, though! Just to be clear, I really hate how this fic came out, I fucking hate it? I kinda regret posting it the way it was but I really wanted to get it out there so hayy oh well. There are a lot of glaring mistakes and typos so expect a LOT of revisions in the future and even more once I have the "prequel" chapters written. This right here is technically the third chapter.

Ian always knows when something is wrong. It's like a fucking sixth sense or something.

George was feeling low, really low. Sometimes he goes for days in a daze, forgets about everyone else; even forgets himself. Sometimes he goes into auto pilot without feeling anything and it’s not good when his feelings catch up to him.

Ian notices. He always does. George hates and loves that about him.

They'd all gone out to some club in L.A. Max, and the rest of the boys are there. George regrets the decision completely. He's drunk and becoming progressively more detached as the night goes on, getting sick of pretending nothing is wrong. He needs to leave, to think. He waits a little while, laughing and joking with them all, being his usual self and avoids looking at Ian who is so clearly trying to catch his eye. He waits before quietly excusing himself for the bathroom. 

He sighs in relief as he enters the bathroom, the loud pumping music reduced to a quiet thrumming beat. It’s slightly comforting, adding to his detachment from the rest of the world. He slowly walks to one of the sinks and wraps his hands around it's sides, looking at himself in the mirror with apathy. Numb yet again.

He jumps when he hears Ian throw the door open with more force than necessary. It hits the wall with a loud bang, the loud music blasting back in before swinging closed. Ian is already striding towards him. George watches him through the mirror.

“What is it George?” Ian asks, demanding but George can detect some worry under the surface. He glances down, feeling a chill settle in his bones. 

“Nothing,” a careless lilt to his voice. He knows he's being difficult.

Ian grabs him by the arm and turns him around. George stares fixedly at the hand dryer on the wall.

“George. I’m not fucking stupid. Tell me what's wrong.”

George hesitates for a few moments unsure of what to even say, unable to look at Ian. So he shrugs and remains silent, wondering where this will go.

Ian’s grip turns softer, less aggressive. He slides his hand up to George’s shoulder and grips it tightly, reassuringly, like he’s trying to ground him. George seems to relax a little. He wants to give into the warmth but there's still some level of discomfort, the itch inside of him to pull away stays strong. He still avoids his eyes. 

Ian reads him like a hawk, trying to figure out how to go about this. He bumps their foreheads together, rests it there, closing his eyes. It pulls at George’s heart. Sometimes when Ian doesn’t know what to do, he tries to reassure him through touch. It usually works that way.

George’s impulse to melt under him begins to grow but he’s stubborn. He knows he’s acting like a dick but it honestly isn’t Ian’s problem. He doesn’t have to be worrying about him and his problems. Some part of him screams bullshit, but he doesn’t listen to it. 

Ian leans in, lips inching closer until he kisses him lightly. George turns his head away abruptly, “it’s nothing” he repeats again dismissively. 

“Bullshit,” Ian drawls, losing his patience. His eyebrows set in a hard line. George looks up and he can’t help but smile dejectedly. Ian's jaw is clenched, his wide mouth is set in a slight pout. 

"M'sorry Ian," he says quietly.

Ian reaches up to hold George’s face in his hands, holding him still. George thinks he's gonna kiss him again but they just stay that way for a few moments, staring at each other, silently thankful no one has entered the bathroom to interrupt. 

"You're going to do it again aren't you," a defeated statement rather than a question.

George looks away and Ian scoffs, stepping away completely and running a hand through his head.

“You don’t have to tell me anything George. Clearly, you’re too fucking pussy to do it,” he cuts himself off and rubs his eyes under his glasses like he's tired. Then he adds with alarming sincerity, “if you need anything…I’ll be there.”

He turns away and leaves the bathroom. Tamping down the urge to chase after him, George watches him leave with his heart in his throat.

\--

It's a few days later when George finds himself on Ian’s doorstep, didn't call or anything. He’s picking at his nails compulsively, itching for a smoke. He didn’t like how Ian just left that night, or the fact that they haven’t talked since. Usually George is the one who ignores him when he’s having his lows but this time there was silence on Ian’s end that terrified George in a new way. What exactly did he expect? He isn't making things easy so why should he expect Ian to put up with it?

Still, he remembers the opportunity Ian left him and with that, he rings the doorbell. ‘I’m always here for you’ means a lot of things. Just the thought of him opening up to Ian like that makes him inwardly cringe, really cringe, not meme cringe. He’d much rather fuck it out than talk it out. 

It’s not that their undefined relationship is only about sex. He can admit they're both kind of screwed in that way. The only problem is the brief periods in which George distances himself from Ian and the rest of the world. It puts a strain on things to say the least.

The only way, the simplest way, George can bring himself to bridge the gap he creates is through makeup sex. Ian has seemed to be ok with that method from what he can tell. They never talk about it and go on as if George’s drop off the map never happened. 

George snaps out of his thoughts when Ian answers the door, his blank look switches to recognition and he smiles a little. 

“Heyy, look who it is,” Ian says. He moves aside and gestures him in, "you didn't tell me you were coming."

George steps in quietly while Ian shuts the door. Ian looks like he’s about to say something, but stops and looks him over, his expression quickly turning calculating. 

“George?"

He swallows and looks at the ground but forces his gaze back up to Ian’s expectant eyes.

"I don't want us to be mad at each other," he begins, “I want- I...need you.” He makes his intention poignantly clear when he reaches down and rubs Ian's crotch.

He watches Ian’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallows, how his lips part when he exhale. Taking some small pride in knowing he has this over Ian, knowing that he'll always, always take him back without a fuss. Of course this leverage only lasts so long until a satisfied look passes over Ian’s face. 

“About time, isn't it?”

George’s heartbeat quickens and he leans in for a kiss but Ian keeps him back. George snaps his eyes open, confused.

“No, we’re gonna shake things up a little this time.”

George’s lips slowly quirk upwards. 

“You want to?” Oh this will be good. George could use some good rough fucking to get back on track with Ian. Come to think of it, it would relieve that deep itch he's got under his skin. 

Ian grips George by the chin, but surprisingly, the touch is light. Ian leans in and presses his lips to George’s, tasting him, feeling the warmth of his mouth. George closes his eyes, relaxing into it. 

Ian’s cradles his face in his hands, fucking cradles him. Shouldn't he be yanking him around by the hair? Smacking him a little? He doesn’t have time to think about the implications because Ian is nipping his bottom lip and pressing his tongue in his mouth like he owns it. George welcomes him gladly. His fingers twitch towards Ian’s hair but he doesn’t go for it. 

Ian pulls back and gazes at him fondly before his eyes fall on his mouth. George fights a grin.

“You need me Georgie?” he murmurs, “This isn’t exactly what I meant when I said I’d be there for you, you know,” he chides him, slightly somber. 

“What else did you mean?” 

It was mean, George felt even more like a prick street saying it. Ian's eyes snap up to his and he falls uncharacteristically silent. His expression is completely inscrutable and it puts George on edge.

“No, nothing,” he says blankly.

\--

They stumble down the hallway together with a purpose, stopping to grope and kiss each other. Their shirts are off and Ian’s already got him pressed against a wall with his hand down his pants, palming him to hardness. 

“You’ve been bad haven’t you, George?” Ian hisses against his ear, he grazes his teeth down his neck making George shudder, his other hand in his hair. He loves how easy it is for Ian to fall into this dominant role.

“Yes, yes, I have,” he gasps, licking his lips subconsciously. Ian wraps his broad fingers around the nape of George’s neck, gripping it firmly. He starts walking and George has no choice but to get pulled along as he leads him through the house to the bedroom.

Once they get there, Ian turns George around to face him. With a ghost of a smile on Ian’s lips, he says softly, “Take the rest of your clothes off, and then get on your knees.”

A thrill runs through George's veins as he strips. He sighs when his knees hit the carpeted floor, completely bare in the only way he was ever comfortable with. Every second that passes makes George feel more and more right. 

Ian bends down in front of him a little so they can be at eye level. 

"You know all the rules, right Georgie? This whatcha want?" Ian asks.

"Yeah -yes," he looks at him slightly wide eyed.

“Good," Ian stands up straight and takes his hardening dick out of his pants, "so you want this cock then, Georgie?”

George swallows and nods lightly, “Yes. Please.”

“Uh uh. You need to tell me how you want it, George. Want me to feed it to you? Push it up your ass?” Ian asks sweetly, "I can't know unless you tell me."

George shivers and glances down at Ian’s cock, filling up with blood by the second. His eyes trail back up his pale toned stomach and chest to Ian’s face.

“Please, give me your cock.”

Ian fists a hand in his hair as a warning.

“How.” His voice seeps authority that makes George want to whine.

George looks down at his cock again and stares without meaning to, notes the way it curves upwards just slightly. He licks his lips when he realizes his mouth has been open the whole time.

“Please, let me suck your cock, Ian.”

Ian starts stroking himself. George has to wait as Ian pretends to consider it. 

“Beg for it.”

This time George does whine.

“Please, please, let me suck it. Please, Ian?” each word makes his cheeks prickle with heat, “I want your cock so badly. Please.”

Ian continues to stroke himself. 

“Oh fuck, please…” George shifts his weight back on his heels and arches his back. He leans forward on his fingertips so his neck is craned up towards Ian's cock. He leans in just a few inches away from it with his mouth hanging open but doesn’t make contact, he slips the tip of his tongue out against his bottom lip giving his best puppy eyes.

“Fuck, George.” Ian groans and closes his eyes for a moment, stroking himself faster. “You’re so good at that shit.” Ian takes his cock and rubs the head along his lips. He smears his precum on George’s tongue which slowly flicks out to meet him. George moans deep from the back of his throat, loving how filthy this is. 

“Go on, lick it. Get my dick nice and wet.” George doesn’t need to be told twice. The sloppy way he laps and licks his cock is absolutely obscene, alternating from licking hard and firm from root to tip to leaving teasing flicks against the head. 

His face burns every time Ian’s cock slips away, out of reach from his mouth. It’s difficult to keep it still without using his hands to steady it but Ian never lets him use his hands during blowjobs or _this_ when they play kinky. He can practically sense the shit-eating grin on Ian’s face right now.

He ignores his embarrassment, he deserves it, and runs his tongue along every inch of Ian's cock from every angle possible. He pays close attention to a prominent vein on the underside, licking and sucking on it firmly. His cheeks are now wet with his own spit and some of the pre cum that's leaked.

“Suck” Ian sounds breathless. He’s palming the side of George’s head, gently stroking his fingers through dark hair. His hold tightens slightly when George engulfs the entire damn thing in one go and starts bobbing his head on Ian’s cock, sucking and tasting his skin.

Ian releases an unwarranted groan and quickly snaps his mouth shut. He looks down to see George who's already watching him. It's hard to look smug with a cock in your mouth but George pulls it off somehow.

“Gooood boy. Fuck, such a good little cocksucker.” George hollows his cheeks and sucks harder on the upstroke so he can hear Ian choke on the end of his sentence.

After a few moments of George having his fun, Ian holds his head still by his hair and maneuvers him up and down his cock. George opens up for him, taking more and more with each push and pull of Ian’s hand. His eyes fall shut only having room to focus on the weight of Ian's cock on his tongue and nothing else, letting Ian control his movements.

At one particularly lengthy thrust, Ian gently nudges the back of his throat and his grip tightens. He moans and George jolts, does his best not to choke, but it’s hard. Ian pulls back and then pushes in again, going a little farther this time. He holds it there. 

George breathes harshly through his nose until he can’t at all. He squeezes his eyes and swallows carefully around the length until Ian pulls his cock all the way out and George coughs wetly, gasping for breath.

“Hey, tongue out,” Ian tells him. George does and Ian taps his cock against it before fucking his mouth again, closing his eyes at the blissful suction. He pulls out before he starts to get too riled up.

“Stand up.”

George gets up on shaky legs and stands. Ian shakes his pants and boxers off and grins at him for a second before scooping up George's shirt and wipes the spit and precum that got smeared all over his face. George sends him a death glare but Ian only smiles innocently, dropping the shirt to the floor. He stands close again, rubs his thumb against George's bottom lip before he starts sucking and biting his neck and under his jaw distractedly. It leaves goosebumps along the sensitive skin. 

George feels a warm hand on his cock again. He moans quietly and lolls his head back. His mind is reeling. He’s starting to feel that itch again. Ian is being unusually considerate and attentive for their game. This tenderness makes his chest ache longingly in a way that terrifies him.

“Who’s a good boy?” Ian asks, lips brushing against his ear.

George opens his mouth to answer but finds that he can’t. Just like in the bathroom. Partly because he doesn’t think he is good, he doesn’t think he deserve that kind of praise. And he also knows it’ll piss Ian off. 

Ian grips his hair so hard it hurts and yanks it back, making George grunt in pain. “What happens when you don’t answer me, George?” Ian’s voice is dangerous.

“I –I get p-punished” he answers through clenched teeth, his neck bent backwards uncomfortably. He swallows, feeling his cock fully harden. Ian looms over him and does not let up on his grip. George's cock twitches with increased interest. _Yes, yes, finally yes_.

Ian’s eyes narrow and sets his jaw.

“Explain it to me, George.”

"Explain...why I get punished?"

"Don't play stupid," Ian says.

 _Damn it._ He gazes at Ian, at a loss for words. How does he expect him to explain it? He’s never had to in the past, any other day Ian without hesitation would have bent him over and spanked him until he was close to crying. All George had to do was break one of the rules. He didn't realize how badly he wanted that today.

“I…” he pauses, scrambling for how to respond but settles on the closest thing to the truth, “I’ve been really bad lately, I’m no good. I should be punished.” 

Ian stays quiet, for a moment until he sighs through his nose and the scary look in his eyes is long gone, “So you want it like that today then.” It’s a statement, barely louder than a breath. Ian knows George has bad days, knows how he likes to unwind sometimes. He just never actually tells him what’s wrong. 

“Yes sir,” George whispers.

“Well let’s give you what you want then, Georgie,” his hand on his cock turns into a vice and he growls, “bad cunt.”

George chokes on his gasp and nods quickly, then remembers himself, “fuck. Yes, please sir. Don't hold back.”

“Hands and knees, now. Facing away.”

George turns around and gets on the floor but hardly gets the chance to get in position before Ian kneels next to him and shoves him face first into the floor. His hand is wrapped around the back of his neck, keeping him there. 

Ian swings an open palm against George’s ass without warning. George releases a startled cry. He pants into the carpet and his cock twitches sharply as he spreads his legs a little more.

“You wanna get punished huh? Do you like being a bad boy?” Ian hisses in his ear and punctuates his sentence with another spank.

“Uhhn! No! I mean yes, I want to get –ah –punished. I –I don’t want to be bad.” He trips over his words trying to answer fast as he can. 

“Could have fucking fooled me.” 

He hauls him up, man-handles him on the bed. Ian settles down by the pillows. 

“Come ‘ere.” George crawls on the bed towards him and is moved brusquely until he’s straddling Ian’s thighs. He’s left leaning forward with his arms resting on Ian’s shoulders so his back is curved. He isn’t used to the proximity. Usually he’s bent over when they do this. 

Ian watches him with dark, lazy eyes and a smirk. He lays a hand on his face, sliding down his neck to the center of his chest.

“Come on, breathe.”

A part of him wants to pull away from the warm touch but his need for Ian wins and he leans into it, taking deep breaths until his heart has settled down. Ian smooths his other palm along the swell of his ass before bringing it down harshly, bringing a satisfying ‘smack’ from one cheek, drawing a sharp breath from George.

Ian goes back to smoothing his hand down against each one again, feeling them grow warmer, occasionally squeezing and fondling before striking the other round cheek. He exhales loudly with each spank, but for the most part keeps his mouth in check. That is, until Ian picks up the pace and George can’t help the small groans and cries that escape him. The pain feels so achingly good, it lights his nerves on fire and he wishes he could touch himself so badly. 

Ian leans in, so their foreheads touch, their lips mere inches apart. George moans in his throat and leans in too, but catches himself. He brushes his nose against Ian’s cheek but refrains from kissing him even though he probably couldn’t want anything more. The proximity –Ian’s eyes –his hands, he’s drunk on it already. This was just supposed to be punishment wasn’t it?

“Good boy, George” Ian smiles genuinely “you’re so good” he murmurs into his lips. 

George moans again quietly, so open. He shakes his head. _No. I’m not good_ , he insists in his head. He bites on his bottom lip.

“Go on” Ian encourages, “you have my permission”.

George groans and kisses him fervently. 

Ian keeps on spanking him but spends more time squeezing his cheeks and rubbing them in between each blow. George can’t make sense of any of it, the spanking he can understand. But the tender touches...he’d rather focus on the pain. 

After the fifteenth strike, every spank elicits a sharp cry or a harsh breath out of George. He deepens the kiss and presses his tongue in Ian’s mouth like he’ll die if he doesn’t. Ian sucks on it, running his tongue against his. 

George’s forearms, previously just hanging off of Ian’s shoulders, wrap around him tightly, his fingers brushing the nape of Ian’s neck. Soon enough, they end up clenched around Ian’s neck with each stinging strike on his bum. The fact that Ian didn't tell him when he'd stop is maddening.

George breaks the kiss and leans away just enough to catch his breath; incapable of looking away from those gray-green eyes. 

“What do you want, George?” Ian asks breathily, “Really.” He squeezes George’s ass and then gives it a serious smack. The hardest one so far.

“OW! Fuck Ian –!” George’s whole body flinches and he can’t help but scowl at Ian. 

Ian continues with the other cheek, pulling an even louder grunt from George whose face scrunches up in pain, the stinging turning razor sharp. He wonders if he should be worried about the sharp lightning bolt of pleasure that shoots down his spine, making his cock spurt what he hopes is just precum. Ian presses soft kisses all over his face, as if to smooth out the tension, a stark contrast to his hands. 

“I want-” _smack_ , “you to”, _SMACK_ , “oh god damn it Ian, fuck me…” He pants roughly against Ian’s mouth. “Please.”

“You really want that, George?” he asks even though the answer is clear. “You think you’re done being bad?”

Ian still hasn’t let up on his ass for a second. One particularly hard stroke makes George shout and his whole body jerks, recoils from the pain, away from Ian’s hand.

George doesn’t have a chance to think about that question because he’s already nodding frantically, his body clearly making its own decisions before he has any say in it.

Ian rubs his hand along George’s spine soothingly, up and down until George arches his back again and settles down. Right when he does, Ian spanks him again just as hard. George winces and and a wail is torn from his throat. He clings to him harder, grinding his dick down on Ian's lap.

Ian can’t help but lean into another kiss. 

“You think you deserve it now? Huh, George?” He stills George's hips with a hand to keep him from getting that sweet delicious fucking friction.

George keens at the loss, “yes, yes, I –I want it,” George rasps. His cock bobs between his thighs, heavy and hard with blood. He wants to touch himself so fucking bad but he can’t, so he digs his nails into Ian’s skin instead. He wants _him_ even more, his previous inhibitions are long gone, all he wants is to have Ian close to him, here and nowhere else.

Ian pauses the spanking and opts to rub the reddened skin soothingly. He feels wet drops hitting his lap and looks down to see George’s red cock dripping on him.

“Look at that, George. You really want it don’t you?” 

“Yes, yes, I do. I want your cock so bad.”

“Yeah?” He dips his fingers between George’s ass cheeks, teasing along his crack.

“Yeah.” George whines, pushing his ass back against him. He thinks he’s counted 20 something spanks so far, maybe 30. He doesn't want to think what sitting down will be like for the next couple of days.

“Are you a good boy for me, George?” Ian murmurs.

“Yes, I’m a good boy….I’m so sorry,” George can hardly believe he’s been reduced to this so quickly, he's partly horrified by how earnest he sounds.

He grips the back of George’s thighs and yanks him closer until he sits properly in his lap. George settles on top of him, gasps when their cocks touch.

Ian stifles a groan and asks, “You ok?” 

George sputters out a laugh that trails off into a sob when Ian starts to grind up against him. He’s more turned on than he can believe but he’s also happy.

“I think I’m more than ok,” he answers. He hugs him close and rocks his hips into Ian’s lap.

“I figured,” Ian says and turns so he can suck and bite along George’s jaw, “glad you’re back.” He kisses him and takes both their cocks in his hand and strokes them for a few moments.

" _Shit_ "

Ian abruptly pulls his hand away and leans over the edge of the bed searching for the lube on the bedside table. He almost drops it when he feels George’s hand on his cock, slowly but surely jerking him off. Ian’s eyes slip shut and a moan tumbles out of his mouth before he collects himself quickly and sits back; grabbing a fistful of George’s hair, tugging his head back until George lets go of his cock. 

Ian leans in with an amused, but dangerous grin, his eyes daring.

“Yeah," Ian drawls, "definitely more than ok." 

George fights back a smirk but fails. He regrets it when Ian’s grin widens and he pinches one of George’s sore ass cheeks. He yelps in pain.

“Hands off, George,” he reminds him offhandedly. He punctuates his sentence with a blunt smack across George’s ass and it draws another noise out of him.

Ian grabs his hip and shifts him to sit down on his cock. He uncaps the bottle and pours the lube over his fingers

“Grind down on me. No touching.” 

George rubs his ass firmly against the length of Ian’s cock, occasionally circling his hips. Ian’s brows furrow in pleasure, his eyes flutter in a moment of vulnerability. Unable to wait anymore, George shoves him into his back and kisses him furiously. 

Ian caresses George’s face before stopping his hips and grinds his cock along George’s twitching entrance. 

His fingers press between his cherry red cheeks, stroking from his asshole to his balls, coating it all with slick. Ian hums deeply when he feels George’s tight entrance flutter. Once he gets one finger all the way inside, George is gasping headily and his trembling hips go still. 

“ _Ian._ ” 

Ian must register the urgency in George’s tone because he swiftly flips them over, and settles between his thighs. George watches him with lust-fogged eyes and he wraps his legs around Ian’s waist, rocking against his finger.

“I wish I could fingerfuck you all day, just so I can see that depraved look on your face,” Ian babbles as he fingers him “but you don’t want that, do you?” 

“No, I don’t. I want you to fuck me,” he breaths hotly against his lips.

Ian cracks a smile and gives him a biting kiss. He rocks back on his knees and grasps George’s thigh, pushing it back until his ass is nicely exposed and easily accessible. 

“Look at you, so eager and hungry for my cock,” Ian laughs breathlessly. 

“Fuck off,” George bites, eyes slipping shut, his lips quirking. Distantly, he knows he’s breaking the rules of their game but Ian doesn’t seem to care. They're at a point where this isn't a game anymore. He adds two more slick fingers carefully and watches as George’s jaw drops in pleasure. George clenches the pillow above his head, his other hand fists the sheets by his side. 

Ian fingers him efficiently, never wasting time. He could tease him for hours on end sometimes, which George both hates and loves. But he can sense they’re both in a hurry for this, the way neither of them are able to catch their breath, the way Ian’s hand on his thigh shakes. He feels the ring of muscle at his entrance start to give a little more when Ian presses a third finger, pumping them in and out rhythmically now. 

“Fuck, Ian,” George chokes, “please.” 

“I’ve got you, I’m right here. You wanna touch yourself?”

“I wanna touch _you_ , asshole.” 

Ian laughs heartily, “good answer, horrible delivery.” 

He pulls his fingers out and presses the full weight of his body onto him, forearms by George’s head. George takes that as a yes. He runs his hands along his back, his shoulders, tugging him closer. He sucks and bites into his long neck, drawing goosebumps and shudders from Ian, who's pressing him into the mattress and now rocking between his spread thighs. 

Ian then, slowly rocks his cock into George’s flushed, red hole. He sinks in slowly, pulling back by a fraction before sliding in further than before. George’s thighs clench hard around Ian’s waist, his toes curl tightly and he digs his nails into Ian’s tense shoulders. 

“Aahhn!” He cries brokenly when Ian slides right on home in one complete thrust. George’s head is thrown back, eyes squeezing shut, open mouth quivering. His whole body is pulled into a taught, tense arch. He feels Ian’s warm broad fingers gently brush his bangs back; he hadn’t noticed they were plastered to his forehead. 

“Ian,” his voice so small, “Ian-”

"Good, good boy. Shhh." Ian licks into his mouth, kissing him deeply as he starts fucking him deep and slow. They’re both groaning into each other’s mouths, until their breathing becomes labored. George keeps his hand fisted in Ian’s hair, the only thing keeping him grounded.

"Ian, fuuuck. Feels so fucking good" George moans, his eyes half lidded in pleasure. After a while, Ian stops holding back his thrusts and George gasps sharply at the impact to his sore red ass but also whines from the pleasure of Ian’s cock dragging inside of him, against his prostate repeatedly.

He listens raptly to the groans that burst from Ian's throat when George clenches down on him. Watching his face turn red from arousal and exertion.

The headboard thumping loudly against the wall is nothing but background noise to them. George is more preoccupied with the sound of Ian’s groans and the wet sounds of their bodies colliding. That spot inside of him is lighting up, leaving a deep, delicious ache in him that makes his groans get louder and higher in pitch.

Ian pants, telling him how good he’s being, what a good boy he is, and George isn’t used to it –not during this kind of sex but he loves it, he loves it – He doesn’t see it coming when he climaxes. The frame of his perception is reduced to the blatant fondness in Ian’s eyes and the warm, tight hand on his cock before everything goes white for a few long, long blissful seconds and he comes between their stomachs. 

As he's coming down from his high, he moans uncontrollably, just small pitiful noises. His voice is weak and hoarse. Ian thrusts sloppily as he gets close. George grabs his face in his hands, murmuring ‘thank you, thank you’ until Ian’s face crumbles and he whines helplessly. He grasps one of George’s hands, presses it to the mattress, holding it tightly before he comes.

Ian immediately collapses on top of him, his face in George’s neck heaving for breath. He’s fucking heavy and it makes George uncomfortably aware of the jizz he shot all over his stomach which is steadily cooling. He just huffs and hugs Ian's body to his, finally starting to calm down. He never knew when their simple fucks and kinky games started turning into this, he has no clue. But surprisingly, he’s more than ok with it.

He squeezes Ian’s hand, threading his fingers through his, and waits for Ian to collect himself. Eventually he pulls his hand away and rolls over on his side, nuzzling into his soft black hair. He’s kind of craving a cigarette right now but it’s not the same nervous itch he had before showing up at Ian’s, more like he had the best sex ever and wants to kick back. George grins and turns to look at him. 

Ian is a sight to see. His cheeks are tinged red and looks as if he just woke up from a week long nap, heavy eyes and floppy hair sticking up in various directions.

“Was I good?”

“I think you fucking know,” Ian smiles back wryly, “doesn’t it feel nice?” He sinks his fingers into George’s hair again, combing through it and playing with the ends, “coming to me when you need it? Being a good boy every now and then?”

George averts his eyes and Ian notices. He tsks and cups George’s face in his hand keeping him there until George looks back at him. George closes his eyes and sighs. He turns on his side so they’re fully facing each other.

“Shut up, Ian.” 

Ian presses small lingering kisses along George’s cheek and the corner of his mouth, “Ok.”

George is satisfied with that answer…until he isn’t. He catches Ian’s lips in a lazy kiss, enjoying the soft press of his lips and his warm breath fanning across his face. He pulls away and keeps his eyes on Ian’s mouth.

“I don’t…mean to push you away like I did the other day. It’s just-” 

“Heyy,” Ian says in his harsh tone and bites his jaw, “you shut up too. You don’t need to say anything.” He sounds resigned.

“No,” George thumbs the stubble along Ian’s chin, “it’s shitty what I do….” George pauses, looking pensive. Ian waits patiently, moves George’s fingers to his lips, grazing them softly.

“I don’t mean to shut you out, I don’t mean to run. I just do. I’ve always been that way, sometimes for a few days I just…check out. It has nothing to do with you.” 

“I know, it sucks ass when you do that, but I get it.” Ian strokes his hair.

George closes his eyes and enjoys the sensation for a while before clenching his jaw and gearing himself up to say something else.

“I know what you meant when you said you’d be there for me. I know you didn’t just mean sex. I was being a fucking idiot.”

Ian stills his hand and gives him that unreadable expression again, like he’s being cautious. 

“Starting to think maybe you’re the sadist here.” Ian says lightly but George can hear some of the hurt in it. He realizes just how much Ian has had to put up with and it breaks his heart.

“I’m really sorry Ian. This...” he gestures between them, “it scares me sometimes, like it’s too good to be true. I guess you’re right, I’m too pussy to talk about this shit.” George chews on his lip.

“You’re real funny, man. You got no problem begging for cock but you can’t talk about your feelings. What kinda fuckin’ pride is that?” 

George smiles broadly, “I wish I could tell you, dude. I got no fucking clue.”

Finally Ian leans in and presses a quick kiss on his lips. “It’s ok, George. Just stay with me when you’re with me, you don’t have to hide anything.” He rests his face against his neck.

“I like this. I like it a lot. I don’t want to fuck it up.”

“You won’t,” Ian hisses like he just said something horrible. He rushes in, rolling on top of him again and kisses him thoroughly. George grunts and pulls at Ian’s hair. 

“No more pussying out.” 

“No more pussying out,” George repeats, smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> I think writing in George's POV was a huge mistake in hindsight though I think it grew on me after time. I'm still more comfortable writing from Ian's perspective though. 
> 
> Leave a comment and a kudos if you liked it! Thanks so much for reading.


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